The kitchen resounded with the sound of meals being prepared. Hidden from the 'bar-restaurant,' two intimidating doors acted as guardians. Inside, after a hard push, it opened to a place with white tiles, multiple counters else referred to as the cooking-station. One rested upfront for plating, it was usually mounted by the supervising chef.
"What smells so good?" wondered the demi-human receptionist wiggling her tail and nose.
"It's meat," replied Konoe with arms crossed and half a smile.
"Meat?" sighed the other receptionist, "-how original…"
"Don't insult meat," came other workers, "-it's the staple of what makes a meal great. Besides, we don't care about the fine dining everyone does here," a bearded man with slippers and vest entered without tact. "The world of the rich cuisine, who cares," he laughed.
"It's personal preference," argued Konoe respectfully. The bearded man seemed to be strong as the others were reluctant to speak or stare.
